Old habits
by ICannotTellALie
Summary: This story takes place during (and is based upon) the 'Bad Water' episode in season 1. Michaela reflects upon her relationship with Sully up to this point. A story about stubbornness, consequences and possibly some interesting developments along the way…
1. A dull ache

**Notes**

_This is my first time writing for the DQMW fandom, so naturally – me being me – I am absolutely terrified of posting this. I usually write for a different fandom – the Miss Fisher Murder Mysteries – on AO3, under a different pseud (DeVereWinterton), but I thought it only fitting to go with a new pseudonym for this fic (and possible future DQMW fics). I am crossposting this fic on my AO3 account (ICannotTellALie/DeVereWinterton), but seeing how this website has been around a lot longer - I started out reading and writing fic here about 12 years ago - and therefore has a larger DQMW archive, I decided to post it here as well. I tried to stay true to the characters, their moods, thoughts and feelings to the best of my ability. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is; please don't burn my books :)_

_This story is rated T but will flirt heavily with M (I might up the rating at a later stage) so if this offends you, turn away now and nobody gets hurt._

_None of the characters in this story belong to me, obviously. Otherwise I would not be writing fic. I'd be writing a reboot of DQMW._

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**CHAPTER 1 – A dull ache**

A sharp pain shot through her forearm. Michaela sighed, carefully adjusting the improvised sling around her neck in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure on her broken wrist. It didn't have the desired effect. She blew an errant strand of hair out of her face, then huffed in frustration. This wasn't at all how she had imagined this trip to go. To be honest, she hadn't really thought much about it to begin with; there was a wrong to make right, and therefore she had jumped right in, headfirst. She usually was quite the methodical woman, weighing her decisions, considering the pros and cons of her actions – especially when it came to her patients – but when it came to injustice, she never seemed to give any of that a second thought. Or a first, for that matter.

Sitting on one of Sully's blankets under a large pine tree, with Wolf resting at her feet, she adjusted her torn skirt the best way she could with her one free hand so she could sit more comfortably. The soil was slightly damp underneath her posterior, even through her skirts and the thick cloth of the blanket. Pine needles, broken twigs and branches covered the forest floor.

She was mostly angry at herself for behaving foolishly.

Old habits died hard. Michaela knew this for a fact, as a lot of her Bostonian ways were still firmly entrenched in her way of thinking. However, in this part of the country that had no use for them, those ways often ended up causing her more grief rather than doing her any good. People here had other things to worry about than proper etiquette and going to the opera, like growing crops, taking care of their children, going to work and, in all factuality; surviving, trying to create a life for themselves.

But at the same time, it was that same propriety she felt she had to _maintain_ in order to win the townspeople's trust. If she could continue to show them that she was a hardworking, reliable and proper woman, she _would_ win their trust. She was sure of it. And when she did, this would mean she would be able to stay in the West, taking care of her children and doing the things she loved the most; nursing people back to health, educating herself and growing as a person.

Growing up, she had been taught women were the fairer sex, more delicate, built differently from men and therefore more vulnerable. She had fought these false assumptions tooth and nail ever since the day she was born, with the support of her father. According to his scientific beliefs and calculations, she was supposed to have been born a male, after all. Being a doctor (and a strong-headed, intelligent _woman_), she knew none of these ridiculous beliefs were true, neither anatomically nor emotionally. And if it meant she had to fight for her rights, and for women's rights in general, until her dying day, well… she couldn't think of a nobler cause. Other than saving lives, that was.

Women were just as capable as men, and Michaela hoped one day young girls like Colleen would be able to grow up in a world where equality was a given, and a right. Not a privilege, or some 'preposterous' demand.

Today, however, her determination… She bit her lip in quiet contemplation. _Fine_. Her _stubbornness_ to show Sully she could keep up, be like him, had ultimately led to a nasty fall and an accident that could've easily given away their location. The consequences of their discovery would have been severe. Trespassers _would_ be shot, and there was no denying that this was exactly what she and Sully were doing; trespassing. Oh, she could just picture her mother's face; her youngest daughter, 'gallivanting' in the mountains with a 'savage', up to something illegal whilst their lives were in danger.

She doubted Mr. Harding's threats had been empty. The man had come across as unmannered, greedy and rude. He would do anything to keep the mining operation in business – Michaela was sure of it – even if it meant covering up unjust deeds and removing any and all possible threats to the company from his property.

Sully had disappeared off to God only knew where about fifteen minutes ago, checking their surroundings to make sure they were safe, and to be honest; Michaela was glad to be alone for a little while. His presence during this trip was… disconcerting, at best. It was confusing her, as it often did.

He had been in a foul mood for most of their trip – a far cry from his helpful and kind but quiet self – and she couldn't quite understand why. Up until her fall she had been able to keep up with him just fine. It was as Olive had said; she could ride a horse just as well as he could. In fact, she had taught herself how to ride well before he did! It was a shame the horses had bolted after spotting that mountain lion…

For a brief moment, she wondered if the horses would have made it back to the homestead by now. Would the children be worried, finding Bear without its rider? She frowned, then shook her head minutely, forcing her thoughts away from the children and back to the subject at hand.

Rummaging through the small amount of belongings she'd managed to salvage, she spotted her hand mirror. Her mind immediately went back to earlier that day: hadn't she, Dr. Michaela Quinn, M.D., saved Byron Sully's life from a rattlesnake? She _could_ fend for herself, had even prevented an injury, and possibly something far worse than that. _Handy little piece of junk_, indeed.

Then again, Sully's own stubbornness had saved _her_ life during the influenza epidemic. She'd found out later from Olive that he'd refused to believe nothing could be done for her – as the supply of quinine had long run out. He had apparently taken her away to see his Cheyenne friend Cloud Dancing, but she herself could not remember much about the encounter, fever having taken possession of her body. The Cheyenne fever tea had ended up not only saving her life, but the lives of others as well. But Michaela knew that if it hadn't been for Sully and his fierce determination, and his refusal to give up on her, she might not be here today. In a way, she felt indebted to him, which might have been part of the reason why she was trying her hardest to prove herself to him, to not be weak, to keep up with him in more ways than one.

She still couldn't shake the feeling of his warm, surprisingly soft lips as they pressed a tender, chaste kiss to her clammy forehead. Even now she wasn't sure if it had been a dream. Part of her wanted it to be true, but another, much larger part was scared of the feelings that particular memory could invoke.

A shiver passed through her body, and it wasn't from either the pain in her wrist or cold.

Just as her mind started to drift off to something else Olive had mentioned before her departure – she couldn't exactly remember the words but something told her it was relevant right now – she heard the soft crushing of twigs and needles, announcing Sully's return.

Grabbing her canteen, she quickly pretended to be busy, if only so he wouldn't become suspicious of her thoughts. He often seemed to already know what she was thinking about, and why. She'd be mortified if he were to find out the reason for the slight blush that had crept up onto her cheeks as she'd been thinking about his mouth, his shapely lips… _No!_ She mustn't think of him, let alone in such an improper manner. When it came down to it, how well did she _really_ know him? What would he think of her, knowing she was entertaining such… _inappropriate_ thoughts? He was her friend – even though he had been acting differently during this trip and could hardly be called 'friendly' – and she would leave it at that.

Michaela only realised the flaw in her plan when she tried to unscrew the canteen's cap. _Why did she always have to screw it on so tight?_ With a small smile, she fondly remembered Martha telling her to always secure bottles properly in case of spillages, whenever she'd been helping the maid out in the kitchen as a young girl. A lesson that had come in handy in medical school. But unfortunately, right now it also meant that there was no way she was going to be able to open the canteen with just one hand.

Forgoing dignity for a second, rather than asking for help she bent down sideways to try and unscrew the cap with her teeth. Before she could protest, she felt Sully's presence beside her as he knelt down on the blanket. His comforting scent washed over her, making her feel slightly dizzy with its foreign familiarity. He smelled of the outdoors, of honest, clean sweat and a faint trace of sandalwood. She looked up into his deep blue eyes, before averting her gaze.

"Here," he offered, gently taking the canteen from her hand before she could protest. "Wrist hurt?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the offending limb.

"A dull ache," she lied. It _throbbed_ rather violently in time with her heartbeat. She nervously pushed some of her hair away from her face. _Why was her hand shaking?_

Sully poured water from the canteen into a cup, then handed it to her.

"Best give it a rest, hm?" he suggested as he screwed the cap back onto the canteen.

Michaela immediately felt her defences coming back up. It was a mechanism that had kept her safe, had kept her going ever since she'd been a child, having to fight for her dreams; this brick wall that she could hide behind, whilst at the same time would allow her to lash out. She did not want to be seen as another weak woman. She couldn't show Sully, or anyone for that matter, her weaknesses. Doing so would mean her downfall, or so she believed. She would have never become a doctor if she had shown her insecurities, or her disappointment every time another medical college rejected her application. She would have never dared to come to Colorado Springs all by herself, if she had shown her fears of travelling alone to unknown territory. She would have never taken in the Cooper children; she'd been terrified because she had no experience with raising children.

The words were out of her mouth before she could even consider them properly.

"Thank you, but I don't need you to wait on me," she snapped primly, not liking the harshness that had crept into her voice but not knowing how to stop it. She quickly took a sip of the water he'd offered her, to try and swallow the sudden bitter taste in her mouth.

Sully huffed in obvious annoyance, and Michaela knew she'd insulted him.

"There's no shame in lettin' people help ya," he said in a clear voice, looking her directly in the eyes as he so often did.

Michaela wished the cup would swallow her whole. She averted her eyes, briefly looking away before uttering a soft apology.

"I'm sorry," she sighed, feeling genuine remorse for snapping at him. "I just wanted to show you that I could do whatever you could." She let out a small huff, a sad smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "Now look at me, I'm almost helpless," she scoffed, her self-deprecation not going unnoticed by the other party.

Sully remained silent for a few heartbeats.

"Why don't you quit tryin' so hard?" he eventually asked her, not unkindly.

She released a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding, and smiled, her eyes briefly glazing over as she considered times gone by.

"Old habits," she admitted with a touch of insecurity, feeling foolish.

"Give 'em up," he stated simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Maybe it was?

In that moment, Michaela realised he saw her for who she was. For what she was. A strong woman. He didn't want her to give that up, because it was such a large part of who she was, but in those three short words he was telling her she didn't need to prove herself to him. He saw her. He knew her. He respected her.

She felt inexplicably safe with him.

Lost in her own thoughts, she was aware of Sully moving out of her peripheral vision, but it didn't quite register. She took another sip of water, but it did nothing to calm her nerves. Suddenly feeling restless and needing to busy herself, she reached for the first thing she could find; her mirror. Casting a quick glance into it, she noticed her reflection looked an utter mess. Her hair had come loose from the bun during the day, and strands of her golden, coppery locks were standing out in different directions.

Rolling her eyes and pursing her lips at her lack of proper grooming, she used her uninjured hand to pull on her hair, attempting to loosen it further so she could brush out the knots and tangles. She didn't notice Sully's eyes on her back, the furrow in his brow at his own indecisiveness as she struggled to pull her hair down.

She convinced herself she'd almost managed to free her long locks from their confinement when she felt the heat from his body warming her back and neck. Nevertheless, she startled when his hands gently pushed her lone one away, taking over. Even though she knew it was medically impossible to experience such a thing without dire consequences, she could have sworn her heart skipped several beats just then, as the air simultaneously rushed from her lungs.

She could not explain why she let him, why she allowed him to overrule everything she had been taught about propriety, but she did. She trusted him.

He set about removing the pins and side combs from her hair with a tender touch that belied the soft, kind and generous personality that hid beneath his often serious, rough-looking exterior. Michaela was fighting the urge to move away, whilst at the same time wanting nothing more than to stay put, to be close to him. It were these conflicting emotions that were now almost familiar to her whenever Sully was around her, near her.

When he gently but all too briefly raked his fingers through her hair, she forgot how to breathe. She could feel the tension between them, even when she wasn't looking at him. It was tangible, like the heat from the sun reaching through the branches, or the dampness rising up from the ground beneath their feet.

She felt more than saw him reaching for her hairbrush, and when he started brushing her hair she involuntarily moved her head forward, giving him better access. She allowed herself a quick sideways glance, but when she saw his large, strong hands, his agile fingers running through her hair as he brushed it, she felt a strong pull coming from her abdomen, and she had to look away.

Closing her eyes, she tried to calm her racing heart. Michaela took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders to the best of her ability. She allowed herself to bask in the moment, letting her thoughts drift away as a pleasant, unfamiliar warmth filled her body and soul.

She missed the small, loving smile on Sully's face.

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_If you have the time, I'd love to read your feedback, so please leave a review!_


	2. Don't be stubborn

**Notes**

_As it turns out, the episodes that are in my possession had been numbered incorrectly, and therefore I have been watching certain episodes of season 1 out of sequence. Nothing too detrimental, but – as I found out after writing most of this fic – I had referred to certain things that had not yet occurred in the series, once I found the correct order of episodes. (Or what I believe is the correct order, after I checked roughly 5-10 lists, most of them claiming different sequences for the episodes I needed.) I removed all except for one 'incorrect' reference; the McCall one in this chapter, because I just really like it and I want to keep it *pouts* (it's fanFICTION, right?)_

_Also, I haven't watched any episodes beyond the start of season 4 yet (I know, I know, I will get to them, BUT FIC). Though I think I am aware of most of the spoilers from season 5 and 6; NO SPOILERS PLEASE xD_

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**CHAPTER 2 – Don't be stubborn**

As relaxed as she had been earlier that day, there was only tenseness in her muscles right now as Michaela sat in their makeshift shelter, carefully watching Sully as he gathered more branches while out in the pouring rain.

Honestly, the man was too stubborn for his own good.

Sully mesmerised and confused her in equal measure. She always found herself wanting to learn more about him, yet every time she did, she felt herself becoming more drawn to him and she worried this meant she would lose her independence. She feared she would lose herself. Sometimes, the things she felt between them were so strong, yet unexplainable, and she wanted to run for the hills. She didn't understand it, but her attempts to make sense of it all had come to naught. It frightened her. _He_ frightened her, with the way he made her _feel_. She hadn't allowed herself to feel for a very long time. Years. Ever since David had died, she had started to hide her feelings from the world, afraid that if she were to show them, somebody would hurt her again. And with the more recent death of her father, she felt as though a part of her ability to feel had been buried along with him, never to resurface ever again.

Somehow, Sully had managed to tap into those uncharted waters. He had found a way in without forcing it, like a gentle breeze on a summer's night; present, and pleasant, but not overbearing. With an arm around her shoulder, burning her skin and leaving a warm, tingling sensation. A hand on her lower back, supporting her and secretly making her long for more, even if she did not know what, exactly. A whispered word in her ear, or a passing greeting, his deep, low voice sending shivers up and down her spine.

It was overwhelming her, and yet she craved more, wanted to be near him. Needed to have him close.

Michaela didn't know what to make of it. She didn't understand it herself, and it frustrated her to no end. It was a puzzle she hadn't yet been able to solve, and it _irked_ her. How could someone she considered a friend – and quite possibly the closest friend she'd ever had in her life, apart from Charlotte and her oldest sister Rebecca – evoke such strong feelings, the likes of which she had never even experienced with her fiancé?

She pulled Sully's red and black Cheyenne poncho up around her shoulders. It smelled like him, and for a second she allowed herself to bring the coarse fabric up to her nose to breathe in his masculine scent. Realising he could catch her at any moment, smelling his blanket, she clutched it between the fingers of her able hand instead, keeping it closed around her upper body, careful not to bump her broken wrist.

Michaela wasn't used to needing anyone, relying on others. She'd learned it could only lead to disappointment.

And yet…

There had been something in his eyes, last night, as she'd washed her face and neck with a piece of wet cloth. She hadn't thought much of her actions, trying to take care of her regular ablutions under the current basic circumstances, until she'd caught the look in his eyes. He had admonished her for wasting the water, and had lain down to go to sleep. Only, he hadn't gone to sleep. He had been watching her with _that look_ in his eyes, and she'd frozen, momentarily unsure of what to do as a faint throb made itself known in her lower abdomen and down between her thighs.

She'd suddenly felt terribly self-conscious, flushing and quickly buttoning up her blouse and clutching the fabric around her neck as though that would protect her from his piercing stare. She'd been embarrassed by her own behaviour. What must he have thought of her? She had been instantly aware of what she had done; closing her eyes, arching her neck, her skin damp… _Dear God_, she must have looked like some wanton, loose woman!

Surely Sully, who had been nothing but a perfect gentleman up to this point – albeit a bit roguish – would not approve of such displays of… of…

Or had he… had he liked what he'd seen? She was too afraid to ask, and she knew it was far from wise or proper to pry.

Michaela was an observant woman. She had noticed men staring at her over the years, some of them more appreciative or respectful than others. But none of them had looked at her the way Sully would look at her. There was an intensity in his gaze that could reach inside her innermost thoughts and feelings, awakening a part of her she hadn't even realised was there before she'd met him.

She cared about him, and it terrified her, yet it also made her inexplicably happy whenever he was around.

She liked to think he cared about the children… about her. She wasn't sure, and it often scared her to think about it at all. But she _wanted_ him to care. When Ethan Cooper had come into town to take away the children to San Francisco, and she and Sully had confronted him about stealing the money for the school, Ethan had told her he cared about her. She hadn't missed the sound of utter disbelief and disapproval Sully had made at this statement, but she'd been so caught up in calling Ethan out on a lie that she'd dismissed it.

But she hadn't forgotten about it.

Sully had seemed angry, not just about the money, but about the way Ethan was trying to win her over with false flattery. And when he'd written that touching letter to the children, explaining their father's sudden disappearance… His gesture had warmed her heart as it broke for the children's loss.

Ever since news of David's passing had reached her, Michaela hadn't allowed herself to feel these kinds of feelings anymore; true joy, sadness, grief, love. She'd convinced herself she simply wasn't ready, hadn't mourned David long enough, whatever lie she could tell herself that would keep the feelings at bay. Then, her father had died and she'd moved to Colorado and all the while she'd told herself she had other priorities than feeble feelings, love, finding a partner. She knew they were simply excuses because she was afraid, and they had worked. Until she'd met Sully.

David had been from her world, but then her world had shifted, and it had collided with Sully's.

Now, she wasn't so sure where her priorities were supposed to lie.

She knew she wanted _something_ from Sully, but she didn't know how to ask, or what she even wanted to ask for.

Around the time Loren had developed a hernia, she'd asked Sully a question she still regretted until this day.

_"Don't you think it's time that you put Abagail to rest?"_

_He looked surprised, taken aback, insulted, confused._

_"Well, things like that just happen in their own time."_

_"I know it's difficult to let go-"_

_He interrupted her, raising his voice slightly, startling her with its sudden coldness._

_"Why don't you just get back to that? You're good at cuttin'."_

He had been right. She had been cutting right into his personal business. Why had she even asked him? She'd had no right to pry. It wasn't her place. She wasn't even sure if she would ever be able to let go of the memory of David completely, yet she'd asked Sully to simply put the memory of his dear wife to rest. Had she already sunken so low as to be jealous of his deceased wife? Or was she merely projecting her own frustrations at her own incapability to love onto him? She was no longer mourning David's death. But that didn't mean she was already capable of moving on. She wasn't ready yet.

Was she?

Not long after Loren's health had improved, a new born baby had been thrown into her lap – quite literally, courtesy of Mr. McCall when he'd left his infant in her care – and it had forced her to start thinking about the future, instead of contemplating the past. After singing a lullaby to put the baby to sleep, she'd dreamed about that same evening.

_She was at the homestead, sitting in front of a warm fire, cradling the baby in her arms. Only in her dream, Mr. McCall's child had changed into her own baby girl, with coppery blonde, wavy hair, and deep, blue eyes. Sully was there, watching her with those same navy blue eyes from across the small space. Their eyes met, just like they had on that particular evening, and she'd felt a spark. She couldn't help but wonder if he knew what she was thinking. It had certainly felt like it. Dream-Sully crossed the distance between them in a few steps, and sat down next to her. He leaned in to put his arm around her, and kissed her cheek, his stubble scratching her sensitive skin. He stroked the baby's fine hair, then moved his palm to cup Michaela's jaw, moving closer. She could feel his warm breath on her lips-_

The next morning she'd awoken to the baby's cries, feeling flustered, confused and restless.

Michaela's thoughts lingered on the dream, when a flash of lightning suddenly illuminated the sky, startling the couple on the forest floor. She tightened her hold on Sully's poncho.

"Sully?" Michaela called out, observing him as he moved further away from the shelter to cut more branches.

"What?!" he yelled in reply over the sound of the rain.

"Come inside!" It wasn't a question. He would catch his death of cold, that infuriatingly obstinate man. The consequences of putting someone else's health and needs before her own came back to slap her in the face, like the steady rain outside the shelter. Once she'd uttered her demand – it was for his own good, really – she realised with a start that this meant he could possibly be _joining her_ in the small shelter he'd built. Which meant that-

"It'll stop soon!" he declared, his back turned towards her.

She wondered if he actually believed that himself. She'd only experienced this kind of rain once or twice before, back in Boston. It was referred to as a cloudburst, and to her knowledge, it could take a while. He would get hypothermia before it was over, or catch pneumonia, which would likely result in the same outcome: death.

"Don't be stubborn!" she yelled back at him, and he turned to face her.

He crouched down so he was at eyelevel with her, and she had to force herself to look at his face, and not at the way his soaked shirt clung to his torso.

"It's an old habit," he said, using her own words against her.

As far as Michaela was concerned, two could play that game.

"Give it up," she countered, a crooked, small smile gracing her tired features.

Sully looked at her, considering his options, when another loud thunderclap stole his attention, and he turned his eyes towards the dark sky. Nature had made his decision for him, it seemed. He got to his feet to move around the shelter, and started taking off his tool belt so he could kneel down on the blanket without hinderance.

Meanwhile, Michaela was doing her best to dampen the surge of conflicting emotions that was threatening to overtake her fatigued body. One the one hand, she was afraid of what this meant, of what might happen. The unknown terrified her. On the other, she wanted his presence, his comfort, his warmth. Battling with herself, and with her notions of propriety, she unwrapped his poncho from her body and scooted over to make room for Sully.

As she was laying down on her back, making sure to not put weight on her injured arm, he moved into the shelter, carefully crawling onto the blanket next to her. She couldn't face him – the thought alone made her blush profusely – but having to lie on her back she couldn't turn her body away from him. She looked the other way as she felt him moving around behind her, lifting the red poncho to lie down under it with her.

Being a doctor, Michaela knew that sharing body heat was a great way to increase survival rates in case of extreme circumstances, and though she doubted it would come to that tonight, she couldn't help the sigh that escaped her mouth when she felt the heat coming off of his body. He was always so warm. Even now, wearing wet clothes, there was no denying the smouldering heat underneath. She barely managed to stifle a squeak when she felt his damp hand coming to rest on her hip - burning her skin through all the layers covering it - but she couldn't stop her heart from nearly beating out of her chest at the close physical contact.

His hand was reaching for hers – _or had she been reaching for his?_ – and when his skin touched hers, their fingers blindly laced together as though they had done so a thousand times already. He gently squeezed her hand in a comforting, reassuring gesture and stretched his body behind her, his other arm coming to reach over her head. She felt surrounded by him, but it wasn't stifling. She felt warm and safe in his encompassing embrace, and soon his even breathing and the sound of the rain lulled her into a peaceful slumber.

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_Reviews make the world go round, and all that!_


	3. I wouldn't dream of it

**Notes**

_First of all, I want to thank everyone who has read (or is still reading) my fic, leaving reviews and validation muffins! Secondly, I am hoping the next two instalments (including this one) will not be too OOC. So fair warning; they might be? I tried my best to keep it in character, whilst adding a bit of 'canoodling.' _

_Oh, also; my beta is very busy at the moment, so all mistakes in this fic are mine, and mine alone._

_I'm also working on a new fic…_

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**CHAPTER 3 – I wouldn't dream of it**

* * *

When Michaela slowly opened her eyes to narrow slits, she felt disoriented.

It was very dark, and she was decidedly not in her bed at the homestead.

She was definitely outside, but for some reason, she was very warm, and her body felt heavy and relaxed. It was almost comfortable, if only the ground weren't so hard on her back.

She vaguely recalled her mission to get a water sample.

Her muddled brain noticed the rain had stopped.

That was good. She'd be able to travel again in the morning.

_Why was she so warm?_

She didn't ponder the thought – not fully conscious – pulled the blanket tighter around her, closed her eyes again and snuggled back into the source of the heat.

The blanket smelled of home.

* * *

Floating around the edges of consciousness, Michaela found herself in a pleasant state of drowsy slumber.

She was dreaming.

_She was sitting at the foot of a very large tree, resting on its roots. She was dressed in only her undergarments, but this did not unnerve her. Dreams very often made very little sense. She felt peaceful, and at ease._

_Sully was there, as well. She could not see him, but she sensed his reassuring presence nearby._

_They'd crossed a river earlier and their clothes were laying out in the sun to dry. It had been a couple of hours now, and she'd busied herself by staring straight ahead so as to give the __two__ of them a modicum of privacy, talking to Sully as he moved around behind her – definitely not con__templating__ his possible state of undress – and wondering what they would discover, once they'd obtained their water sample. She hoped to God they would be making it out of here alive…_

_Sully's voice interrupted her reveries._

"_For someone who's nearly helpless, you did good."_

_Was that a compliment? Michaela felt herself flush at his praise._

"_We were lucky," she replied, voice slightly shaky._

"_Cheyenne would say you have a debt on me," he said – referring to her rescue mission earlier that day when she'd dragged his unconscious body to safety – and she smiled to herself. How many times had he saved her life already?_

"_We all have a debt on each other," she stated. A light gust of wind made her aware of her state of undress, and self-consciousness crept in. She turned slightly towards Sully. "Do you think the clothes are dry?" she asked in a thin voice, trying not to sound nervous._

"_Dunno, I'll check," he said, then added "Don't. Look," in clipped tones as she heard him moving from the tree to the river bank._

"_Wouldn't dream of it," she blurted out, cheekily, before she could help herself. _

_She found she _also _had difficulty containing her curious nature. _

_It was as if his prohibition made her want to do it all the more. _

_Carefully, so as not to arouse his suspicion, she turned her head and upper body in his direction, sneaking a peek at him over her shoulder. He was just bending down to grab their garments, and she noted the small blanket he had tied around his waist. It was slung dangerously low on his hips, outlining his shape. When her eyes landed on his toned backside, the cloth pulled tight around it, she could feel her cheeks burning, but she did not look away until the last possible moment. It wouldn't do for her to get caught… _ogling_ a man she, quite frankly, still knew very little of._

_Then again, she had known her mother her whole life, and still felt as though she hardly knew the woman at all. Sully already felt familiar, as though she'd met him years ago and they had been friends ever since._

_They _were_ friends. Weren't they?_

_Quickly, she turned around to safety when she sensed his approach, getting up from the tree roots and facing away from him. Reaching behind her with her uninjured arm, she waited until she felt him nearby, pushing __articles __of clothing into her hand. Turning around, she saw he had averted his eyes, and she had to force herself to focus on the blouse he was offering her, rather than stare at his broad, naked chest. She had never seen him without his shirt before, and the sight of so much bare, tanned skin on display was awfully distracting._

"_Keep your eyes shut," she told him in no uncertain terms, knowing she was a downright hypocrite for even asking, when she herself had not been able to resist casting surreptitious glances at him._

_Sully did as she asked, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as she took her proffered blouse from him._

_Michaela managed to get her injured wrist into the sleeve, then struggled but managed to pull her blouse on. She thought she could feel his burning eyes, roaming over her body, but she dismissed it as foolish thoughts. She soon realised, however, that she could not do up the buttons with just one hand. _

_She didn't give it much thought, her practical nature taking over. Asking him _was_ going to be nerve-racking, but walking around in just her undergarments was hardly an option. She _was_ going to have to get dressed at some point._

"_Could you do up the buttons?" she asked Sully, who turned around and opened his eyes when she addressed him in a small voice, surprise evident on his face._

_He__ approached her__, and she could feel her stomach drop as her heart leapt into her throat. _

_Sully visibly faltered, fumbling as he tried to decide where to start, reaching for the top button first but quickly deciding against it when his hands came near her suddenly sensitive bosom. _

_As he got started on buttoning the lowest button, Michaela tried to look anywhere but into his eyes, or at his capable hands, as they swiftly and efficiently completed their task of buttoning up her shirt. She'd never known anything so… stimulating. She wondered if he could feel her heart, beating irregularly in her chest. She had to bite her lip when his fingers inadvertently brushed against her breastbone, pushing the final button through its hole. _

_She clasped his hand in hers for one brief moment, intimately holding it against her chest, before letting go._

"_Thank you," she whispered, as she put her injured arm back into the sling._

"_You're welcome," he offered, his voice hoarse and tight. _

_His eyes did not leave hers. Why was he staring at her like that?_

_Before she knew what was happening, he had backed her up against the tree trunk. __Her skirt was lying forgotten among the tree roots as he carefully closed the distance between them once again. _

_One of his hands came to rest above her head. Her own hand supported her body against the tree, as her knees threatened to buckle. She didn't feel cornered, or threatened. If anything, the need to arch her body to be closer to him was almost impossible to resist. _

_His free hand followed the row of the buttons on her blouse in the opposite direction it had just travelled. It passed the valley between her breasts without pausing, but she couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through her at the sudden intimate contact. She could hear his ragged breathing, his eyes focused on his hand, staring at it as though it were not his own. As though he was merely an onlooker, an observer, just as lost as she in the tidal wave of emotions that threatened to crash against their shore. _

_Sully continued downwards, until his hand reached her waist._

_His eyes were deep, infinite pools of blue, filled to the brim with something she couldn't quite grasp, something she didn't yet understand. But she _felt_ it, this elusive force between them, and a steady thrumming between her thighs answered the silent call of his body, as it stood so close to hers._

_He didn't say anything, but ever so slowly, the hand that had been resting relatively innocently on her waist – his thumb close to her belly button – started moving the fabric of her blouse and camisole upwards. His solemn eyes were burning as they sought and made eye contact with her bicoloured ones. _

_Her breathing was out of control, shallow, and her breasts heaved from the effort to get some much needed air into her lungs. His eyes snapped down, noticing the rapid rising and falling of her chest, and her flesh suddenly ached with the need to touch him. To have him touch her. _

_Boldly, her idle hand pushed the blue bandana from his head so she could run her fingers uninhibitedly through his wavy hair. When her nails daringly raked across one side of his scalp, he growled softly, deep in his throat._

_His thumb gently brushed the soft skin of her abdomen, and as his fingers tightened on her hip, she gasped when he leaned in to-_

Her eyes shot wide open when she felt the skin on skin contact.

The tree, the rough bark pressing into her back, Sully's blue eyes, the gentle sound of the river, the rustle of the leaves… it had all disappeared.

The feeling of his skin on hers and the insistent throbbing in her lower abdomen, however, hadn't.

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_Please leave a review, they make my day!_


	4. New habits

**Notes**

_THIS IS WHERE THE ENTHUSIASM STARTS. But seriously. There won't be any actual sexual intercourse, but there will be mention of certain body parts and at least one conscious, consenting but __unmarried__ adult. You have been warned. If this is not your cup of tea, stop reading now :)_

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**CHAPTER 4 – New habits**

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It was still dark, and Michaela figured she couldn't have been asleep for more than an hour or two. She had moved from her back and was now laying partially on her side, the wrist in the sling resting somewhat uncomfortably on her upper body. At least the fracture had stopped throbbing, fading to nothing but an _actual_ dull ache. She felt Sully's body behind her, but she didn't dare turn around to find out if he was asleep. His slow, even breathing, however, indicated that he most likely was.

Michaela blushed lightly, vividly recalling the earlier moment when Sully had intertwined his fingers with hers without hesitation, their joined hands coming to rest heavily on her hip. It had felt right, and she hadn't stopped him.

His hand was currently lying on her waist, his fingers gently stroking the exposed slip of skin he had uncovered during his nightly exploration of her person. She realised her moving around in her sleep must have rucked up her blouse and camisole, untucking them from her skirts, and it had granted him access to a part of her body no man had ever touched before. Not with this kind of purpose. Granted, her abdomen was a relatively innocent place to touch, given certain alternatives – her blush deepened to a dark crimson even considering those options – but still. It all felt dangerously intimate to Michaela, who was doing her best to not wriggle right out of her skin. Whether from discomfort or… or something else, she couldn't say.

The dream had been so _vivid_, reliving the moment between them earlier that day at the roots of the tree, but obviously her traitorous subconscious mind had made some alterations she did _not_ wish to ponder upon.

Her abdominal muscles clenched as she recalled the hungry look in Sully's eyes, his fingers as they'd almost touched her breasts…

She realised she'd never slept this close to another person ever before, Brian being the exception when he'd had a nightmare or just wanted the comforting embrace of his new Ma.

_Oh, dear Brian._

Michaela wasn't used to touching people. She would do so within the professional boundaries of her job, but her strict upbringing was partly to blame for her lack of inclination to touch people on a more social basis. A hand on an arm, a hug, a hand cupping a strong jaw… Her parents hadn't really been openly affectionate with one another in front of their children, or towards their children – not even her father – and growing up in the _milieu_ that she had, it was often considered improper to touch freely at all. Physical affection of any kind was frowned upon, and as a young lady she had forced all such thoughts from her mind, focusing instead on her studies.

When Brian had hugged her for the first time, he'd just lost his mother, and Michaela had been frozen to the spot, not knowing how to react or what to do. She'd felt none of the maternal instincts she'd read about in books. Afterwards, she'd felt terrible for not immediately knowing how to comfort the little boy, to simply return the hug he'd so clearly craved. She had been trying to make up for that moment ever since, hugging him and allowing him to sleep in the bed with her whenever he so desired.

She'd never slept this close to another _adult_ before, without any children nearby. Not even her sisters, because her mother had always insisted they return to their own bedrooms whenever she and her siblings had attempted a secret sleepover when they were young. The closest she'd slept to another human being was Sully, when they'd shared a tepee on the reservation when Brian had gone missing. And there had still been half the tepee between them – even though at the time she'd still considered that distance between the two them far too small for it to be proper. Afterwards, however, she'd had to admit that his presence had been soothing, and his breathing had lulled her into a surprisingly peaceful sleep, considering the circumstances.

She'd never lain with a man. And although their night in the tepee had been innocent enough – even though her mind had screamed at her through the haze of exhaustion that it was highly improper to share the tent with an unknown man – something had shifted inside of her. The thought of sleeping with another person had somehow seemed less daunting afterwards. She could see the possible benefits of having someone else there during the night, for safekeeping. For comfort.

However, the thought of being intimate with a man still terrified her.

And yet… a very small part of her couldn't deny the fact that she liked the current feeling of being in a man's arms. But the circumstances were far from ideal, and quite frankly, she felt very much out of her depth. All she and David had ever done was kiss, and she could count those moments on two hands. And judging from the things she'd heard from Myra (and had witnessed first-hand at the saloon), those kisses had been relatively innocent.

They'd certainly never stirred the kinds of emotions Sully could evoke with just one single look.

Sully hadn't moved ever since she'd awoken – save for his fingers on her abdomen – but his hand on her bare skin was so warm, she was sure he was leaving an imprint on her body. He was certainly creating all kinds of new sensations within her body, and writing frighteningly tantalizing memories in her mind.

She had to get away. She had to preserve their dignity, and uphold her own moral standard. But as she carefully grabbed hold of his hand to move it elsewhere – preferably far away from her person so she could at least _attempt_ to _think_ clearly – he laced their fingers together like he had before, and protectively tightened his arm around her waist when she tried to move further away from him.

Michaela sighed in defeat, unsure of what to do next, when – without preamble – he buried his face in her long hair and started nuzzling her neck. For a short while, she stopped breathing altogether, closing her eyes as he overwhelmed her with sensation. Making her _feel_ things she'd never experienced before. His lips touched the creamy skin of her neck, his nose pushing her hair to the side before rubbing the tip of his nose against a sensitive spot behind her ear she hadn't even known could feel this good. He murmured something against the elegant column of her throat that could have been her name, but she wasn't sure of anything anymore at this point. All she could _hear_ was their rapid breathing, her own heart as it threatened to burst right out of her chest. All she could _feel _was his hot mouth on her neck, now placing soft, delicate kisses on her porcelain skin as he flexed their joined hands against her belly. She shivered, a shaky breath leaving her body as he continued his sensual assault.

She involuntarily arched her neck to give him better access, and he growled softly, quietly, nipping playfully at her throat, making her feel lightheaded.

As much as her mind told her to resist, her body clearly had a different opinion on the matter. The dull ache that had made itself known whilst she'd been dreaming returned with a vengeance. She was perspiring, trembling and yet, she wanted more of this foreign feeling. Her breathing changed to shivery pants and shaky gasps as her brain attempted to understand what was going on with her body. A body that seemed to have a mind of its own. It relaxed even further back into Sully's solid frame, whilst feeling very tightly wound in specific places. Unaware that her body spoke in a different language now, communicating its needs in clear signs and movements, everything she did was appealing to her sleeping partner. His body was speaking in the same language, and it answered her call whilst she kept on encouraging him in this new world they were discovering together.

With a jolt, she remembered Olive's parting words from a few days ago:

"_I think he's scared to be out there alone with ya."_

"_Why would he be scared of that?"_

"_I can't imagine... Can you?_"

The older woman had offered her a knowing, conspiratorially smile that had implied so many things, Michaela had not known how to react, and had promptly rushed out of the store with a nervous giggle of her own.

Was _this_ what Olive had been referring to? Had Sully protested so much to her coming along on this trip because he'd been afraid something like this could happen? Had he _hoped_ for something like this to happen? She suddenly felt terribly naive. She was almost thirty-five years old, yet the thought of something like this being a possibility had never even occurred to her.

Releasing her hand, his large palm started to caress her stomach again, but this time his ministrations held more purpose, a different meaning. She felt her muscles contract and release, and when he slipped his fingers under her clothing to touch her bare skin again, her heart and eyelids fluttered as his touch left a trail of fire in its wake. Her left hand, now free of his, timidly reached behind her and encountered his surprisingly soft hair. She did not dare pull him closer.

His hand continued its explorations, moving back over her blouse again, his fingers stretching wider to reach more of her body. She squirmed against the onslaught that threatened to take over her being, and his hand moved higher, until it was trailing the underside of her breast where it strained against her clothes. Her breasts felt heavy and her nipples ached with a unfamiliar longing to be touched. She had never even… _explored _her own body, yet right now, she wanted Sully to do so. She had never been brave enough, but she secretly hoped he would be.

When his hand curled around her breast, she blushed feverishly at her own wanton behaviour when she immediately and instinctually pressed the tender mound into his palm, making him groan. She gasped when his lips started sucking and nipping at her throat – teeth grazing her skin – working his way down to her cloth-covered shoulder. Goosebumps erupted all over her sensitized body when his thumb brushed across the firm bud of her nipple and teased it with his thumb. The throbbing of her core turned into a steady pounding, beating in time with her rapidly racing heart.

A shrill voice in the back of her mind – sounding remarkably like her mother – was screaming at her to stop this _at once,_ before it would go too far, but her body was too far gone already, and she wanted to find out where these feelings could take her. Where _he_ could take her.

She felt fearful and free at the same time.

Unconsciously, she was rubbing her thighs together to appease the desire at the apex of her legs. The lacy trim on her bloomers was scratching her calves as every sensation became heightened. She suddenly wished she was wearing one of her soft, cotton nightgowns instead of all of these cumbersome clothes, then viciously slammed the lid on that particular train of thought. _What was happening to her?!_

Before she had time to consider the rapid departure of her morals and notions of Bostonian propriety, Sully pulled her body even closer so it came into direct contact with his for the first time since she'd woken up. His broad chest pressed against her back as his upper legs touched the backs of her thighs through her skirts.

She gasped in both inexperienced surprise and unmistakable arousal.

There was no mistaking the evidence of his desire, as it was currently pressing rather insistently into her lower back.

Naturally, she had read about a man's… _bodily functions_ in medical school, but to _feel_ it as it rubbed against her body, close to her throbbing centre, was something she could've never imagined whilst reading the dry, clinical textbooks.

Those same textbooks had also never mentioned anything about the burning feeling in her loins.

Michaela had only read or heard about desire once or twice in her life, and the term had been labelled as 'vile', 'base' and 'immoral'. It could only lead to trouble, and she had been warned about it by her mother when she and David had started their courtship. She had never experienced desire before, or so she thought. But whatever Sully was making her feel right now… it came pretty close to what she'd read, to what she'd heard about, to what she'd been warned against.

Were these feelings so awful? She had been taught lust was a sinful thing, but right now her mind was fighting a battle with her body, and one of them was quickly losing ground.

Her body was shaking, tingling all over and the fine line between pain and pleasure was almost undistinguishable to Michaela. Everything she knew, everything she had been taught came crashing down around her, conflicting with her current state of being as she wondered how these feelings could be considered _wrong_?

She was getting swept away by a tidal wave of unknown passions, feeling both heavy and weightless, heady and terrified, yet safe and curious. Sully's kisses had turned into open-mouthed caresses, and when his tongue came out to taste her skin, she involuntarily arched her body against his, dizzy with desire. His palm squeezed the supple flesh of her breast and heat flooded her belly.

As their hips found a slow, mutually pleasing rhythm she was hardly even aware of, his hand travelled down the front of her quivering body, and when she tilted her head, he took advantage, biting the small, fleshy expanse of her tempting earlobe. She barely noticed his hand as it slipped under the waistbands of her skirts and bloomers, until she could feel his fingers, tickling the coarse hairs that covered her mound.

She whimpered, biting her tongue to stifle the moan that threatened to spill from her lips.

She was arching with him, writhing against him, panting, moving her hips, seeking some kind of friction she never knew she'd needed before this moment. She knew she had to stop, but she didn't know how to anymore. She felt trapped, not knowing where to turn, her own feelings having been unleashed after so long and turning against her. She did not know how to put a stop to this, and a large part of her did not want to. She felt as though she was about to burst, as though she was losing her mind, torn between needing to push him away and _needing him_.

Then, all of a sudden, it was over.

Her breath was coming in short, bursting pants as her eyes widened. The incessant throbbing that had taken over her body was making her shake as all of her nerve-endings were screaming with an undenied release of some sort.

Sully had rolled away, taking with him all of the pleasurable sensations he'd invoked. She could still feel the warmth of his breath on her neck, the heat from his body, the pulse of his desire… Michaela wanted to throw up. Had he woken up? Was he disgusted with her? Her lip quivered as she hugged her body tight with her free arm, remembering his touch that had been there mere seconds ago.

_What had she done?_

Torn between wanting to run away and walk home, and calling out to see if he was actually awake, she startled when Sully let out a loud snort. Mortified, she turned over onto her other side, only to encounter his back as it was turned towards her. Not two seconds later, loud snoring could be heard.

_Unbelievable._

Michaela had to suppress the sudden urge to hit him.

_He was snoring? Sleeping?_ _After everything that had just happened?!_

She wanted to _scream_.

Then again, she supposed it was probably just as well. It would have been even worse if he had been awake during… _well_. During _that_.

After several minutes of quiet contemplation, she turned onto her back again as the pain in her wrist returned in full vengeance. It almost felt like a suitable punishment for letting go of her coveted principles, her inhibitions. She had gotten her breathing back under control, but could not do anything to appease the ache between her thighs.

She would not tell a soul about this.

_Especially_ not Sully.

It would be her little secret.

As she closed her eyes – knowing that sleep would elude her for the rest of the night with the way her body was still tingling – Michaela realised it might not be such a bad idea to start giving up on some other old habits.

Perhaps…

Perhaps it was time to start creating some new ones.

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_That's it, folks! I am working on another fic that I hope to finish sometime around August, as my beta will then be able to check it for me. Toodles!_


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